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Sugary folkish stuff, complete with semi-cryptic lyrics and way too much pathos to fit in that era. Thank god for that awful accent, the out of tune bass and those dying cats meowing at the end.
lyrics
(Lyrics)
We saw a man, yesterday, his arse in the sand
As it was on our shore that he came to sore
And to write a silly song for her, wherever it goes,
Fella's been a bore, lemme share his complaint.
Oh, the glory of a smile from a dozen suns
Or a thousand scents for one perfume.
The wit of a monkey who saw it all,
The call to adventure, the feel of home.
A world wide cocoon of pure bliss and awe,
And that castle on the moon she gave him just like that.
How he'd like to go back to places they've never been
And find that by miracle, she was already there.
All around the tube, piles of books
Make for the fading heat of that pool of words.
Where are they now, those emerald cities ?
There were none too rich, but none to reach.
All the beautiful things, all the things that she is
Soothing tone of her voice, while she fucks up the world
Eloquence and grace in every blink of her eyes
And all the other things that he can't touch no more.
The tide will sweep him away and spare us the drama
And she'll find a mess, that he'd left on the floor
All the things that she is, that he wished to care for
All the beautiful things that he can't have no more.
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